


When the Long Road Ends

by compo67



Series: Punzel Verse [19]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Childhood, F/F, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Jensen sings, M/M, Mother's Day, Nostalgia, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Parent-Child Relationship, Songfic, Timestamp, singing jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can find or get a hold of Jensen before Mother's Day dinner with Hannah and Linda. Hannah decides to go out in search of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Long Road Ends

**Author's Note:**

> "When the Long Road Ends," by Paul Thorn.

No one can find Jensen.

Every available adult in the house calls his phone—twice.

“I just don’t understand,” Jared frets, drying dishes that Misha has just finished washing. “What’s the point in having a phone if you don’t answer it?”

“Easy,” Misha says. He passes over one of the kids’ plates. “I’m sure he forgot it in the car again.”

Jared shakes his head, making his ponytail swish. “No. No—something feels _off_.”

Before Jared can upgrade his worry levels to red, Hannah volunteers to go out in search of her son. Lin and Jeff are entertaining the terrible three in the backyard with hula hoops and glow sticks. Of course, the activity has an ulterior motive: Lin and Jeff are on a mission to tire the kids out before Rhonda arrives to babysit. The guys, the boys, and the Grandmas have reservations at the country club on the beach in honor of all four mothers in their group.

Hannah is excited to pop open some champagne and kick back.

She grabs her purse from the kitchen table and looks out to the lush back lawn. Lin chases after Bailey with a hula hoop. Her curly red hair bounces with her movement, and she takes the same tumble into the grass that Bailey does, holding him close, pressing kisses to his cheek.

Not two seconds later, Jeff and the girls appear, wielding magical wands and tiaras.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Hannah calls out to Jared and Misha.

She leaves with a smile that seems permanent these days.

 

Santa Monica is vastly different from Anaheim.

In Anaheim, everything is about Disney. And if it isn’t about Disney, then it’s a little suspect. It wasn’t much of a town before Disney rolled in with his dreams and cash. He wanted Burbank as the location for his empire, but even back then, Burbank was pricey. Anaheim was all orange groves.

Now, Anaheim is mostly hotels and restaurants.

Maybe it’s because they’re much closer to the ocean now, but Hannah feels freer in Santa Monica. There’s more room to breathe. Even downtown doesn’t faze her. Parking is a little congested tonight, it being the Saturday night before Mother’s Day, so she parks a little further from the gardens than she usually does. This puts her right outside an art store and a bar.

Something has been up with Jensen lately. She hasn’t made any mention of her observation to anyone, not even to Lin. It’s all speculation, and it could be nothing. When he’s ready to tell her what’s going on, he’ll tell her, and she reminds herself every week that she needs to trust that.

Of course, that’s easier said than done.

For the past six weeks, Jensen cannot be accounted for every Wednesday at two in the afternoon. No one knows where he goes or who he’s with. One week, Lin needed to ask him to come over and fix their sink, but Joy in the gardens had no idea where he was, neither did Jared. Another Wednesday, Hannah called three times at two, only to get a call back two hours later.

It’s unlike Jensen to isolate from everyone.

Purse in hand, Hannah begins her walk. She might check the bookstore. And then the guitar shop. If not there, then maybe Matilda will have a lead.

Reservations are at six thirty; she checks her watch—yep, five thirty. If she can swing over quick enough to all these places—and hopefully bring her son back too—they’ll still be on time.

Stopping to fix her hair, Hannah uses the bar’s window as a mirror. Part of Lin’s gift to her this weekend was a trip to the salon. There were manicures, facials, massages, and haircuts involved over a wonderful four hour stretch. However, Lin thinks her gift can’t be topped. Hannah tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She loves that woman, but she’s going to be proven wrong about that assertion.

Out of the corner of her eye she spots someone inside the bar. She sees them because they tower over people inside. Their long hair also catches her attention. Odd. For a second… did she just see Jared?

Did she not leave him in the kitchen with Misha?

And she swears that Jared was wearing blue today, not red.

Hannah looks around, searching for Lin, the guys, and the kids, because this has got to be some kind of elaborate prank or surprise. Maybe this is their Mother’s Day surprise? The boys were talking about having something to announce. But why do they need to make the announcement in a bar?

She is about to call Jared and ask why he’s been secretly bartending, when she spots another figure inside, this one strikingly familiar. But there’s something different here that Hannah notices immediately—when Jensen takes a seat at the bar next to Jared, he doesn’t place his hand on the small of Jared’s back or wrap his arm around Jared’s waist. He doesn’t play with the hem of Jared’s shirt or gently run his fingers over Jared’s belt buckle, gently tapping his fingertips over Jared’s middle.

He’s been doing that more often lately, and Hannah has noticed.

In fact, everyone except Jensen has noticed.

But here, there is a measured distance between the two individuals at the bar. Jared gets up from his bar stool and nods over to the back of the bar. Jensen hesitates for whatever reason. This spurs Jared to linger, leaning against the bar. With another half a minute to observe, Hannah realizes that this person is not Jared.

It’s taken her longer than she’d care to admit to remember that he has a twin brother.

Stepping into the bar, she walks up to Jensen and taps his shoulder.

“Mom,” he coughs, putting his bottle of beer down. “What are you…”

She gives him her best we’ll talk later look and turns to Jared’s brother.

Holding out her hand, she introduces herself.

“Tristan, ma’am,” the boy murmurs, taking her hand. He doesn’t mention that he is Jared’s brother; that much is obvious. He does, however, mention to Jensen that they should get going or Jensen is going to be late.

“Are you joining us tonight?” Hannah asks, bracing herself to warn Lin, who in turn will warn Misha. At the same time, she keeps a careful eye on what is before her and what might be underneath that. What exactly is going on here?

Both boys look to each other before blurting out that no, Tristan will not be joining them tonight.

“Okay…” Hannah pulls out her phone. She texts Lin that she’s found Jensen—and nothing else. “What exactly are you boys up to right now? Because honey, we have been trying to reach you for the past hour or two, and if you remember, we have reservations.”

Green eyes look at her the same way they used to when caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Except, she doesn’t think the worst here. Her son doesn’t do things like that. She trusts him. But if this is who he’s been spending time with on Wednesdays, and Jared doesn’t know, then there might be a whole other set of problems.

“We, uh…” Jensen starts.

“I mean, there’s still time for one more…” Tristan mumbles.

Jensen runs a hand through his hair and keeps his shoulders tucked in. Hannah remembers this body language. It’s similar to how he looked when Alan caught him playing the guitar instead of studying. The boy wanted to play guitar, not study for the SAT. Hannah also received a lecture from Alan that night—how could she encourage that behavior? How could she watch their son throw his life away over something so stupid?

As a child, Jensen was quiet and serious.

As a young man, he was angry and bitter.

Everything he played had a heavy twang.

He slips his hand into hers. The noise of the bar does not drown out his voice, which is even and steady. His thumb grazes over her knuckles before he gives a little squeeze.

“We have one more song to do.” He says it like a secret. “Come back and watch.”

She used to drive Jensen to guitar lessons.

And she never said a word to Alan about it before or after he found out.

In between Jensen and Tristan, she follows to the back of the bar, through a door that leads out to the alley and what is now a makeshift practice area. Two people turn at the sound of their approach. A young woman with long, pink hair waves at Jensen, while an older man smoking a cigarette simply nods.

“Thought we lost you,” the young woman chirps. She takes a few steps over. Dressed in overalls and sneakers as pink as her hair, she radiates warmth. “Hi! I’m Miyako—Miya, as these guys call me. You must be Jensen’s mother.”

The first person to call Hannah Jensen’s mother was a lawyer in Dallas.

He was two years old.

“I am,” Hannah replies, shaking Miya’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Miya smiles and nods over to the older man. “That’s Beto. He doesn’t talk much, but then again, neither do these two.” She looks over to Jensen and Tristan, who have now picked up their instruments. Hannah is surprised to see Tristan holding a trumpet.

“We’d talk more if you talked _less_ ,” Tristan mutters. “Let’s go guys, one last song.”

“Ugh, _guys_ ,” Miya snips and takes her seat at a very basic set of drums. She twirls her sticks and shoots a glance at Hannah. “See what I have to put up with once a week? Do you have any embarrassing stories of Jensen in exchange for my pain? That might help soothe it.”

Hannah does not miss the red bracelet Miya wears on her right wrist. It’s very similar to one that Tristan has. She wonders briefly if these two are involved, but that’s none of her business. These observations set aside, she turns her attention to her son, who insists that no one needs to hear about the time when he was ten and he ate an entire package of string cheese before a school field trip two hours away. Hannah drove those two hours and rescued his sorry butt.

“There was cheese everywhere,” Jensen recalls, shaking his head, strumming his guitar softly. “I smelled cheesy barf for weeks after.”

Making a face, Miya holds her hands up. “What?! How the hell did you not leave him on the side of the road after that?” She points one of her sticks at Jensen. “If you’d been _my_ kid, you’d have walked back home. I hate puke in the car.”

“You would never leave Kevin on the side of the road.” Tristan moves closer to Beto, who is on bass. “Right?”

Beto only says one word: “No.”

Miya rolls her eyes and keeps her sticks above the drums. “All right, whatever. Speaking of my kid, let’s get this show on the road so I can pick him up from my neighbor before she thinks I’ve run off with wolves again. You know I don’t mind impromptu sessions, but she’s gonna start charging me overtime and I’m sending you knuckleheads the bill. Okay, ready? One, two, one, two, three…”

It’s true—the two hour drive back from Malibu was not Hannah’s picture of the ideal afternoon.  It was about eighty degrees that day, and Jensen had had a few juice boxes on the bus, thinking that it might settle his stomach. Several times on the way back, Hannah had to pull over. Alan loved to make fun of the size of her purse back then. But it carried everything she needed on that side of the highway that afternoon—wet naps, two bottles of water, an ice pack, hand sanitizer, and a pack of peppermint gum.

Her purses shrunk in size over the years, but larger ones have made a comeback in the last five.

Now she carries wet naps, water, hand sanitizer, a change of clothes, and snacks for three peanuts. And, occasionally, her son, who still can’t eat ice cream without getting it all over his mouth.

Settled on a crate Jensen provided her with, Hannah holds her purse in her lap. The music that begins to play is not at all what she expected. It’s soft and steady, laid back. Lead by the strum of Jensen’s guitar, the song doesn’t have much to it. Tristan waits, tapping his fingers against his trumpet, keeping time. They all sound good.

Jensen’s hands move over the guitar with ease.

Less easy, however, is singing.

He makes eye contact with Hannah, his trepidation clear. She sits back on the crate and smiles.

Guitar lessons were fun for Jensen. He enjoyed going to them and getting ice cream after. It was their secret time together twice a week after school. While he practiced, she waited in the lobby.

While he learned chords, she worked on a few things from the office.

While he repeated one song over and over, trying to get the melody right, she made shopping lists and balanced the checkbook.

While he went through Guitar I, II, and III, she was sure to stop what she was doing every once in a while to listen in and hum along.

“Who were you loyal to, what were you passionate about?” His voice is light. “Did you have one true friend? These are things worth knowing when the long road ends.”

There is no anger to what he plays now—any of it. She’s heard him practice on this guitar since Jared gave it to him for his birthday. She’s watched him take it out of its case and sit on the back porch with Bailey, teaching small hands how to make the most beautiful sounds. She’s seen Bailey bite his bottom lip in concentration, dedicated to learning, fascinated by Jensen and the guitar.

“I look down at my children and they look up to me.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “Each day I pray for wisdom to be the father I should be.” He looks down at his hands. “When they grow up and move away, I hope they think of me as a friend. Then I will feel successful, when the long road ends.”

While he was growing up, Hannah was there for all of it. Not just the good times, like his guitar recitals or the day she took him to see Joe Bonamassa when he was fourteen. And not just the bad times, like the string cheese accident. She was there in all the in between times—all the little moments she sees reflected in a new way.

For every time Hannah was there, he is there for his children.

Every time she wiped his nose and brought him soup in bed, she has seen him do it times three.

All those afternoons that she balanced the checkbook in the cramped waiting room, have been converted into afternoons on the couch with her grandchildren and her partner, while she watches Jensen and Jared in the dining room table. Now they balance their checkbook and pay their bills.

She’s seen Jared sit at the table while Jensen stands, leaning over his shoulder.

Those are little moments, like the belt buckle.

She’s seen Jared reach up and scratch behind Jensen’s ear, then give it a little tug before going back to the check he’s writing to pay for another month of preschool.

Jensen’s voice carries the force of his emotions. He sways from side to side, more confident now.

“When the long road ends we will rest for a while. I’ll hold your hand and we’ll share a smile. Then we’ll both look back over where we’ve been. We will have no regrets when the long road ends.”

The band draws back in this break; Jensen’s strums quiet down.

Clear and sweet, the trumpet plays through a commanding, hauntingly splendid solo.

Before the last few lines of the song, Jensen steps over to Tristan and pats his back, nodding.

“When the storms of life come raging, just hold each other’s hand. The sun will shine forever when the long road ends. We will have no regrets when the long road ends.” Jensen closes his eyes. Miya and Beto keep up, winding down the beat and the volume.

The last strums of the guitar match Jensen’s voice—comforting and calm.

“We will have no regrets when the long road ends.”

Hannah dabs at her eyes.

After ten seconds, she no longer has control over her tears, and she cannot stop them.

Rushing over, Jensen asks her what’s wrong.

She shakes her head. Nothing is wrong. Far from it.

The young man holding the trumpet—Tristan—reminds her so much of Jensen _before_. She hopes he reaches peace. Before she and Jensen leave, she takes Tristan’s hands in hers and compliments his talent.

Now, on a crate, in the alley behind Freddy’s Bar and Grill, Hannah wraps her arms around her son.

Nothing is wrong.

She is so proud.

**Author's Note:**

> made myself cry with this one. /sniffs/
> 
> happy mother's day. <3


End file.
